Unwritten
by Silvered Rae
Summary: Thalia writes a letter to Luke in an attempt to get her many bottled up feelings out. She reflects on her life with him, as well as her life without him. But will she be able to find closure or forever have a hole in her heart?


**Unwritten**

**Inspiration: Red Sam by Flyleaf**

Luke,

Remember those days in between monster attacks and scavenging for food when we'd just sit around with no energy, not wanting to do anything? Well I can, and I remember how we'd swap stories about our moms. I told you that she never cared about me, that she never taught me anything worth knowing except what not to do.

I'm not sure about the first thing I said, but maybe I was wrong about the second thing. One thing I remember about my mom is how when she got really mad at a director or boyfriend or someone, she would go into the study that she rarely used and write and write and write these long letters that seemed to never end.

I must have been five or six when I saw her taking one of the letters she'd been writing for a couple weeks and send it through a paper shredder. I can remember perfectly how I asked her why she was ruining something she'd spent so much time on.

She'd looked at me like it should be something I just knew. "Because, Thalia, I don't write these letters to send them," she scoffed as if the idea was outrageous. "It's not as if I can tell my director that he's a pompous windbag. Alas, I must settle for confiding my inner feelings to a humble piece of paper."

Now I didn't get what she meant at first, maybe because I didn't know what she meant by 'pompous windbag' or what humble meant. And then there was the fact that when I was little I had a hard time grasping the concept of inner feelings. Feelings were feelings to me. What I felt was what showed. Those were probably some of the best days of my life, colored by a naïve innocence.

Slowly I learned that it's not always good to wear your heart on your sleeve. It can get you in trouble, and more importantly, it can get you hurt. I think that's why I never got along with my mom very well. She was tactical, making sure to say the right thing at the right time and keeping what she really felt bottled up inside. Maybe she hated that I could be so open, so carefree when it came to what I was feeling. And I loathed her because she only released the whirlwind of emotions she kept bottled up when she was at home.

Isn't it just the punishment I deserve? I ended up just like her. My life has become a big facade, and now I'm writing a letter to a dead guy in some futile hope that this is going to make all my problems go away. Yeah, I think I'll have as much luck as my mom on that one.

Looking back on it, I'm not even sure how much time we had together before fate decided to rip us apart. Sometimes when I think about it, I can remember endless months with you, and other times it feels like it was just mere weeks-days, even. But I always agree with myself on one thing: however much time we had, I could have had a million more years and still not have been ready to give you up. Maybe it would have only been harder. I guess we'll never know.

But when the golden fleece healed me and I found out you were gone, I was a different person. I didn't want to tell anyone what I was feeling, and I didn't know if anyone would want to hear it, or most importantly even start to understand.

I learned one of life's many lessons a little too late. Sometimes emotions aren't as simple as being happy or sad. A smile can be faked so well that no one bothers to look twice. At least I inherited something worthwhile from my mom.

Everything I was feeling stayed bottled up inside, and I used anger to get it out. I stopped caring, stopped thinking. Some part of me thought that maybe death would have been easier than life.

There was some part of me that still felt some moral obligation to the rest of the world. I couldn't let my own recklessness and inability to cope with what was being thrown at me completely ruin the world for everyone else. Plus the scared part of me didn't know what I was going to do about you. I wanted to be with you so badly; I thought you could make everything better. And then there was the part of me that thought as soon as I trusted you, you'd run away from me somehow.

Like I said, the world definitely needed someone else to decide its fate. That's why I joined Artemis. And I guess we both got the short end of the stick with that bargain. In the end, you died and I ended up without you. Sometimes I wonder who's worse off now.

I suppose that this letter is as good as words that aren't said. I get what I want to say out, but I don't get to tell you. I could imagine, but I can't fool myself. Maybe Mom could, but she was and always will be the better actress. I don't want to be like her, but I look at myself and I am her. Same crappy life and same way of keeping it inside.

This letter is as good as unwritten without the closure that telling you all of this would give me. So as I throw these few inked up pages into the rushing river, I'll imagine that instead of my reflection, it's you who's looking back at me. And you'll be telling me that it's okay, and I'll reach out a hand to touch you. Then the icy water will send me painfully back into reality and I'll be back at square one.

Well, there is one positive. I guess I'm not exactly like my mom.

Luke, I would give anything for you to be able to read this. I'll have to settle for hoping that you know me well enough to realize that I don't blame you for anything. Or maybe I did, but I don't anymore.

I'm going to stop now as I've realized that this isn't doing me any good.

~Thalia

**Author's Note: Not a whole lot to say, other than that CC is greatly appreciated.**


End file.
